


Candy Sweet

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: The Sentinel (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash, Sentinel Thursday, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:16:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: Jim doesn't have a date for Valentine's, but Blair could have. For some reason this makes Jim grumpy.
Relationships: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30
Collections: SenThurs.freeze





	Candy Sweet

**Author's Note:**

> Very, very pre-slash I'm sorry. But hey, this is the second fandom I've written Valentine's Day fic for. Slowly but surely, yes? I'm always saying that I don't mind people incorporating the prompts for Sentinel Thursday in a very rough and ready manner, and I present this fic in evidence.

The bar was getting incredibly noisy, and Blair’s elbow was annoyingly sharp as he prodded it into Jim’s side. ‘Hey, hey, look, looks like Rafe and Angie are going to end Valentine’s Day with a date even if they didn’t start it with one, right?” Jim turned away from Rafe and Angie getting to know one another to take in his friend. Blair was flushed and bright-eyed from an excess of whiskey sours and voyeuristic Valentine’s Day cheer, which he’d been doing his best to spread around all evening, particularly to Jim.

“Jenny in Payroll will be happy, anyway.” Jenny in Payroll had arranged this little shindig for, and Jim mentally quoted from the flyer and emails she’d dropped around the Department, “the lonely hearts on their own on Valentine’s Day.” Rafe and Angie were close in animated conversation, and when Brown threw a loud “good work, my brother” at Rafe, Rafe didn’t take his eyes off Angie’s pretty face but did extend one hand with its middle-finger extended, to a roar of amusement from other PD staff. 

Jim sipped his beer. He’d had one mojito (another part of the theme that Jenny from Payroll had insisted on – all the lonely hearts mixing, etc etc so at least one mixed drink to support the bar, thanks) and eyed the party with a jaundiced eye. Sandburg had insisted they come, spouting the usual bullshit (rituals, fun, community, people-watching, whatever...) and it wasn’t as if Jim had a date for the day. Romance… it was all bull anyway. An excuse for people to do the stupid things they did every other day, just with a garnish of expensive meals and red roses and chocolate.

“It’s time to go,” he said. 

Blair frowned, but then nodded. He detoured briefly to thank Jenny from Payroll for organising the evening, mildly flirtatious the way he was with any woman from eighteen to ninety-five. He grabbed two little cellophane baggies of candy hearts that had been scattered around the tables, and thrust one into Jim’s hand on the street. “Here, man, for that sweet tooth you have.”

Jim lifted his hand. ‘Be mine’ exhorted one candy heart through the wrapping, and with a snort of disgust, Jim tossed it into the nearest trash can.

“Hey!” Blair protested. “Why waste perfectly good food!”

“I seem to recall about a million lectures from you about how junk food is going to kill me early, and that chalky crap isn’t even good junk food, Chief. Save the outrage for something more worthy.”

Blair looked put out at this but rallied. “I’ve still got this one,” he said and swung said packet from his lifted hand, a slightly manic hypnotist attempting mesmerism with his candy. “This is a great American tradition, man, these things have been manufactured for over one hundred years.”

“Which would explain why they’re crap if they’ve been around that long,” Jim said, but with slightly more good nature than when he’d thrown his ‘booty’ into the trash. “And how do you know so much about the history of candy hearts anyway.”

“Oh, Lisa was writing a Valentine’s Day article for the Rainier Collegian, and she got me to proofread it for her. It was interesting.” Blair’s enthusiasm trailed off, as if he’d realised that mentioning Lisa was a false step, completely correctly because mention of Lisa reduced Jim’s good nature back to about zilch. He’d seen Blair with Lisa. She was petite, clearly intelligent, and possessed of a great rack that Blair’s eyes strayed to just a little more than was necessary. Blair should have been with Lisa this evening. Blair could have been with Lisa this evening, and Jim didn’t know why he wasn’t, but pity probably played some role in that, and Jim didn’t take pity from anyone. (He absolutely didn’t, and he’d still gone to the bar with Blair and the rest of the losers in the romance stakes. He was pathetic.)

He stalked off around the corner to where he’d parked his car, aware that Blair had to take longer, quicker strides than usual to keep up with him.

“So I guess that an evening of drinks and good cheer didn’t do anything to lift that grumpy mood,” Blair said, as they reached the car.

Blair’s agenda made explicit only irritated Jim the more and he spat out, “Look, Chief, next time some cute girl drops heavy hints about what you might be doing on Valentines, take the hint, okay? I don’t need you to drag me out to some bar to console my dateless ass.”

“Oh, great, with an attitude like that, big surprise that you’re dateless. Fuck you, Jim. If I wanted to keep a friend company, try and cheer him up, what the hell is so terrible about that? You’re a dateless ass, all right, and from where I’m sitting that’s no surprise.” Blair climbed into the car, slamming the door shut, and chose to look resolutely out the side window.

Jim pulled away, feeling suspiciously like a heel, an idiot, an ass of the first order. “Chief,” he said placatingly, but the glare that Blair turned in his direction froze the words in his mouth. He concentrated on simply driving them home.

It seemed that Jim’s grumpy mood had become contagious. Blair exited the car with a sullen expression and headed for 852’s door. He’d left his packet of candy on the seat, and Jim picked it up and took it with him.

Inside, he proffered the candy. “You forgot your little bag of American Valentines history.”

“Forget it. Like you said, it’s chalky crap.”

Jim had the occasional contrary streak, nothing new there. “Fine,” he said. “Then you won’t care if I keep it instead.” He opened the packet, clumsily enough that the bag split open all the way. Jim cursed under his breath as he very nearly dropped candy all over the floor. Lucky that he had good reflexes and a big hand. Blair snorted in unwilling amusement at Jim’s awkwardness. It lightened his face, and Jim held his handful of nasty candy and its silly messages out towards Blair.

“Take some,” he said.

Blair glared at him again, but now the irritation was only a shell around a core of affection. “Oh for…” He hesitated and then smiled. “I suppose I could at that.” His hand hovered over Jim’s, before plucking out one candy heart with the slogan ‘luv-u’. He popped it in his mouth. “You’re right,” he said. “It is chalky crap.”

A heart with ‘Be mine’ ended up Jim’s mouth. “I dunno,” he mumbled. “Maybe they’re not so bad.”


End file.
